


5 Times Alec Lightwood Pretended He Was Fine

by nightskywrites



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland Friendship, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Feels, Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:52:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightskywrites/pseuds/nightskywrites
Summary: . . . and the one time he really couldn't.





	1. Forsaken

It’s pure luck that Alec is close. Or bad luck. Depends on who you ask.

He’s in the entry hall, because he needs to talk to Izzy about something but he can’t find her, and Katie had said that Raj knew where she was. Raj is supposed to be on guard duty right now.

Instead, Alec is standing in an empty hallway.

He’s about to go yell at someone (most likely Raj), when he hears the grunting and clashing of metal that can only come from hand to hand combat. There’s a great cracking noise, and then a shout.

Alec’s blood goes cold, because he’d know the sound of his tutor’s voice anywhere. He does the only thing he can; run.

His bow is in his hands in an instant, and he skids around the corner. A Forsaken (which must have been the crashing noise) is on top of Hodge, club up, ready to swing. He doesn’t have to time to think, much less wonder how the hell the thing got into the Institute, so he goes with his first instinct; fire.

The arrow lodges itself in the Forsaken’s back, right where it’s heart would be. Because this is Alec’s luck, the thing doesn’t die, but turns on him with an enraged snarl.

He fires again, another perfect shot that would have sunk between two ribs and punctured a lung if the thing was actually alive.

Before he can loose another arrow, the Forsaken is on top of him, swinging its spiked club. Alec raises his arm to stop his head from getting knocked off his shoulders, and the club connects with his bicep.

He goes flying.

He comes too to Izzy’s voice. “Oh my God,” he hears, and it sounds like she’s rooms and rooms and maybe a whole Institute away. Everything feels fuzzy. There’s blood in his mouth.

Suddenly, she’s above him, her face swimming in and out of his view. “Alec, are you ok?” Her hand is on his arm and he nearly screams, but he keeps it in as she sits him up. “Alec,” she says, slightly more urgent, but still calm. “Say something.”

He groans. “M’fine.” He takes in the Forsaken on the floor, neck snapped, Hodge standing over it with a satisfied grimace.

Izzy snaps her fingers in front of his face. “Don’t give me that. You’re not fine.” She looks like Maryse, standing over him, arms crossed, scowl on her face. A laugh bubbles up in his throat. He can’t remember a time his mother cared that much.

“He’s definitely got a concussion,” Hodge says. He’s probably right. Alec doesn’t know; his head hearts to much.

“I’m fine,” he says again. “I just need an iratze.”

“Absolutely not,” Izzy says. “You’re going to the infirmary.”

He pushes himself off the floor. The room spins dangerously, but he manages to get his feet under him. “I’m ok, Iz,” he says. “Promise.”

She still looks doubtful, lips pursed, but she lets go of his arm.

Alec gives her a smile he hopes doesn’t look like a grimace, and hobbles out of the room. He doesn't look back, but he doesn't need to. 

He has work to do.


	2. Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Clary get more than they bargained for on patrol.

“MOVE!” he yells, and thank God, for once in her life, Fray actually listened to something he told her. She ducks under the tentacle, then stabs up with her seraph blade, demon disintegrating with a shriek. 

“I thought there were only supposed to be a couple!” she shouts over the gurgling and hissing of the horde, spinning around a Ravener and slicing off it’s stinger. 

Alec fires off an arrow into its eye, then slings his bow over his back and draws his blade. “That’s what the report said.” 

“I don’t think we can handle this. There has to be a least ten.” 

Alec gives her a dry look as he pulls a knife from his belt and flings it deep into a demon's chest. It goes down with a shriek. "I'm glad you can count, Fray," he says, panting. 

She shoots him a look in return, huffing an annoyed breath as she flips her blade. This was supposed to be a routine patrol, Alec showing Clary the ropes and what she was supposed to be looking for while canvassing the streets with other Shadowhunters. 

"You will take her out on patrol with you," Maryse instructed earlier that evening. "Jace will stay here with me and Isabelle and go over recent demon movement. Raj and Jacob took out a nest of demons the other night so it should be relatively quiet." 

Relatively quiet, it was not. “Goddamn it,” Alec swore under his breath as more demons appeared from the shadows. He grabbed the redheads arm, pulling her out of the way and tugging her behind him. “Run, Fray.” He flung another knife into the chaos, hearing a demon snarl as it fell back. Immediately, more appeared to take its place. 

Annoyance flashed in her eyes as she tugger her arm away from his grip. “I can do this,” she argued stubbornly. “We can do this.” 

A demon surged from behind her, and Alec’s body acted on instinct. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her, switching places. One of the demon’s claws swipes his shoulder, and he grits his teeth as he feels fire explode through his arm. His vision whites out for a second, but luckily, Alec has been trained since birth. He doesn’t need his vision. Slashing up with his other hand, he separates the demon’s tentacle from its body, followed shortly by its head. 

Clary is by his side in an instant, except now she’s the one tugging him along. Her face looks very white, especially framed by her vibrant hair. “Come on,” she shouts, and Alec follows her without hesitation. 

They’re running now, flying through the concrete jungle of New York City. Every pounding step against the pavement sends jolts of pain through Alec, but he pushes it aside as he and Clary flee from the demon nest. 

Something in him is screaming that Shadowhunters don’t retreat, Shadowhunters stay and fight until the death, that he is a coward and a failure and that there is a reason Jace is the favored brother.   
He pushes that to the side, and lets the pain ground him. 

Fray is laughing as she runs, hair flying behind her, like they almost didn’t just die but Alec, for some reason, doesn’t feel annoyed. She looks over her shoulder. Their eyes lock, and she stops so suddenly Alec almost runs into her. 

“By the Angel,” he says, skidding to a stop before he body slams her. “Why’d you stop? The Institute is a couple blocks north.” 

Fray frowns at him, and god dammit, he doesn’t need her concern. “You’re bleeding,” she says simply. Her long fingers reach out, skimming the surface of his jacket sleeve. “Like, a lot.” 

Alec jerked away from her like he was burned. “It’s fine,” he said, making sure to sound as pissed off as possible. “I don’t need your help.” 

She rolled her eyes at that. “All you Shadowhunters are the same, aren’t you?” she snapped, pulling out her stele. “Put aside your pride for two seconds and just accept my help.” 

Alec opened his mouth, then closed it. “You don’t tell Jace about this,” he finally decided on. 

Clary raised an eyebrow. “About what?” she asked dryly. “The fact that you’re injured, or our touching heart-to-heart?”

“Both,” he said gruffly, and held out his arm. 

She took it gently, fingers tracing the ragged tear of his jacket before brushing over the wound. A hiss threatened to escape from between his teeth, but he forced it back as she raised her stele and drew an iratze into his skin. 

The bleeding stopped first, and he watched as the wound began to shrink before it stopped as a long, red, scratch. Clary stepped back with a satisfied nod, pocketing her stele as she smirked at him. 

“Your welcome,” she said, turning away and once again heading towards the Institute. 

“Hey, Fray,” he called. She stopped, looking at him with a quizzical expression. “Thanks.”

The smile he got in return was blinding.


	3. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec thinks he's broken, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: depression, anxiety, graphic panic attack, dissociation, suicidal thoughts/intentions, talk of suicide. Do not read if any of the above triggers you.

Alexander Lightwood is a lot of things. 

Warrior. Leader. Son. Brother. Boyfriend. 

Sometimes, though, on days like today, Alec feels like he’s breaking. It’s not a specific event, exactly. He’s just cracking. Something feels like it’s shattering. The pain is deep in his chest. Some days are better than others, but it never goes away. 

Izzy is good on days like these. She takes one look at him, baggy sweaters and tired eyes, and drags him into her room. She puts on trashy rom-coms, makes popcorn with too much butter, and talks and talks and talks, never expecting him to answer. 

On those days, the silence is too loud. It’s too much. It feels like salvation and destruction in the same breath, It says _I am the only one here, the only one who will protect you,_ sometimes Alec wants to scream but he knows making noise is a death wish. 

Jace knows too, but it’s not like Alec could keep it from him; they’re connected in every possible. Jace doesn’t ask, though, doesn’t have the same gentle reminders that he’s there to talk if Alec needs to like Izzy does. 

Jace’s care is a more brutal kind. It takes the form of punching bags, in bloody knuckles and aching bones, sweat, fighting and fighting and fighting. Jace will spar him for hours, not saying a word. 

And Alec; well, Alec’s form of self care looks more like self destruction. There is, after all, almost nothing an iratze cannot fix. Not cuts from seraph blades, not sleeplessness, not hunger. The only thing it leaves is the emptiness inside of him. 

But Magnus is different. Magnus tastes like forgiveness when Alec kisses him. Alec loves Magnus in a way he’s never loved anyone else. And Alec _feels_ loved when he’s with Magnus. He doesn’t have to be anyone but himself. And Magnus doesn’t need to know about the other stuff, because right now he looks at Alec like Alec has hung the moon and Alec doesn’t understand but he doesn’t want Magnus to think anything less when he knows what Alec _really_ is. 

So Alec doesn’t tell him. 

And like most of Alec’s plans, it doesn’t exactly work out. 

____ 

Alec comes too with the bite of concrete against his back. There are faces hovering above him, and he makes out Izzy and Jace and Magnus and his mother. People are saying things, but it all sounds too far away. Too . . . muddled. 

Something coils deep in his gut. It tastes like shame, and Alec turns his head away so he doesn’t have to see the disappointment in their faces he’s sure is there.

Magnus helps him up off the ground, looking at him warily, like Alec might vanish before his eyes if he lets go. Alec gives him a smile to try to reassure him, but Magnus’ frown only deepens. 

That’s just what Alec does; disappoint. Magnus opens his mouth like he’s going to say something to Alec, but then suddenly someone else is talking, and Alec has never been grateful for Magnus to be preoccupied but it seems like tonight is a first time for everything. 

Everything seems blurry. Out of focus. Time moves too fast, then slow, warping through Alec’s brain. It feels like a dream. 

Alec knows, logically, that he’s there. That he’s there as Iris tries to escape, as Iris pleads about her daughter, but it doesn’t feel like he’s there. It feels like he doesn’t exist at all. 

He’s staring at a spot on Magnus’s wall when a hand comes down on his shoulder. Alec flinches, hard, throwing the hand off him with lightning speed as his arm comes up to block his face. 

“Alexander!” Magnus says, stumbling back from the force of his shove. He regains his footing as Alec drops his arms. 

“Magnus,” Alec says, rushing towards his boyfriend. “I’m sorry, I . . . blanked out for a second.” 

Magnus gives him a look. Not a look. The Look. The Look that says _what are you trying to hide from me?_ Alec gulps. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” Magnus asks, but he’s already leading Alec to the couch, hands firm on Alec’s shoulders. “I’ll make us some tea.” 

“I -” Alec opens his mouth, but then he realizes that there’s no point in arguing. “Ok.” 

Magnus fixes him with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wonderful.” 

And then he’s gone, off into the kitchen. Alec can hear him bustling around, fixing the kettle, grabbing the tea bags from the cabinet. His magic would be faster, of course, but Alec knew tea was something Magnus liked to do by hand when he was worried. Especially when he was worried. Shit.

Magnus comes back a few minutes later with two steaming mugs. Alec takes it, then raises it and takes a sip. It's burning hot, but it feels nice, and it settles warm in his belly. But it does nothing to calm the rolling feeling in his gut. He can feel Magnus's eyes on him, so he raises the mug again and drinks. He notices, distantly, that it's his favorite mug. He doesn't know how he feels about that.

"Alexander," Magnus says. He sounds tired. And worried. And, fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen.

"It was the spell," Alec blurts. "It was all the spell. Mags, you know I wouldn't -" 

" _Alexander,_ " Magnus says again, voice tight. "We both know it wasn't."

Alec's breath catches in his throat. "It was." He sounds like he's lying even to his own ears. "It was, it was, it was, it was, it _was._ " He pushes the mug away all of the sudden and stands up. His chest feels tight. "It was." His voice is pitching higher now, and his hands are shaking. The tea he just drank was threatening to make a reappearance. Alec felt cold and hot and in some distant corner of his mind he registered that he was having a panic attack, and he was having it in front of Magnus, and that he tried to kill himself tonight and everything was too much and too loud and - 

"Breathe with me." Magnus's face swims into view. "Deep breaths, Alexander." He grabs Alec's shaking hand, and intertwines their fingers, pressing Alec's hand against his chest so that he can feel Magnus's chest rise. "Match that, ok? In and out, just like I'm doing." 

Alec takes a deep, shuddering breath, then chokes out a sob. "Magnus."

"Deep breathes, sweetheart. You're doing great." Magnus takes an exaggerated breath. "Just like that." 

They sit like that for a long time, Magnus murmuring sweet encouragements as Alec tries to relearn the functions of his own body. Finally, Alec's breathing evens out, but he's too ashamed to look Magnus in the eye. 

“What are you afraid of, Alexander?” Magnus asks him quietly.

_Everything_ , his brain whispers. “Nothing," he says. 

"Alec," Magnus starts. "Seeing you on that ledge was one of the scariest moments of my life. I know that you're here, but for a moment I thought I lost you and I -" A gentle hand cups his cheek, lifts his head so he can meet his boyfriends eyes. "I don't know what I would do." 

Alec leans into the touch, lifting his own hand to rest on top of Magnus's. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to scare you." 

"I know you didn't," Magnus pulls him closer. "But Alexander, this is . . . this is serious. You need to talk to someone about this." 

"I don't need to talk to anyone." The words slip past Alec's lips before he can stop them. "It's always been like this. There's no fixing me." 

"There's nothing to fix, Alexander." Magnus sounds even more worried, somehow. "You're not broken. You do know that, right?" 

Magnus's voice has the higher pitched note of hope at the end, and Alec feels something crack inside him. A physical pain inside his chest. Magnus still thought he was good. Magnus still didn't realize how fucked up Alec was. Not all the way, at least. 

"Of course." 

"Promise me you won't try to do something like that again, Alexander. Please?" Magnus's cat eyes were a hopeful, bright yellow. 

Alec wants to say something. He wants to scream it until his throat gives out. Tell the whole world that that wasn't his first time standing on a ledge. That it probably wouldn't be the last. That he can't sleep anymore, and when he does he dreams of red hair and dead eyes and blood, so much blood, on his hands on the walls on her broken body. That something's broken inside of him.

The only words that come out are "I promise." 

And Magnus . . .

Magnus believes him. 


	4. Breakup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is gone. 
> 
> Alec watches him go, and something precious breaks. The hurt floods in all at once, hitting in places Alec didn’t know could hurt, aching in ways he couldn’t have imagined. 
> 
> Max is alive. 
> 
> Magnus is gone.

Magnus is gone. 

Alec watches him go, and something precious breaks. The hurt floods in all at once, hitting in places Alec didn’t know could hurt, aching in ways he couldn’t have imagined. 

Max is alive. 

Magnus is gone. 

For some reason, Alec can’t make the two realities coexist. Two of the most important people in his life. One was almost torn from him, and the other walked away. 

Even now, wood of the paneling biting into his back, Alec can feel the ghost of Magnus’ hand on his cheek. 

_ I love you too.  _

Alec felt safe. Alec felt loved. Now all he feels is alone. 

_ But as a leader . . .  _

Alec has been trained to be a leader since birth. To grow and fight and die by his people. Most in his profession don’t live past 30. Almost all don’t know what it means to be happy. 

And Alec . . . Alec thought he could have both. He was a  _ fool.  _ A naive, helpless fool. Izzy was wrong, he thinks bitterly. She was so very wrong. 

_ There are difficult decisions I have to make to ensure the survival of my people.  _

Alec understood. He remembers a time when the only thing that mattered was a family. And then he met Magnus, and Magnus become a part of that family Alec had sworn to protect no matter. 

The tears well up in his eyes as the weight of the last 48 hours crashes into him, and he lets them flow unbidden. He can’t remember the last time he cried like this. Can’t remember the last time he needed to. 

Magnus was there. Magnus was always there. 

And now . . . Alec is alone. 

Izzy finds him later, crouched on the floor in a ball, head between his knees, breath coming short and thready. She pulls him up and takes him to his room.    
  


“Alec,” she starts once she forces him into a change of clothes. “Alec, what - what happened?” She looks scared. Because Alec doesn’t cry. Alec never cries. 

“Magnus broke up with me,” he says, voice rough and shaking. “He, he, he just  _ left,  _ Iz, he walked away and he’s not going to come back and -” 

“Oh, Alec,” Izzy’s voice breaks, and she pulls him close to her. “It’ll be alright.” 

_ No,  _ Alec thinks.  _ It won’t.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was a short chapter, but the next chapter is one that I'm super excited for so make sure to stay tuned! As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. Let me know what you guys think of the story and what direction you think it's going next!


	5. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec sways on his feet, and before either of them can react his eyes roll back in his head and that impossibly long body of his is folding in on itself. His head catches the corner of his desk with a sickening crunch. 
> 
> Something rolls in Magnus’ stomach.

It’s close to midnight when his phone rings. Magnus doesn’t bother looking at the number. He just flips it over and hits answer. 

“Bane,” he says, sounding almost as tired as he feels. He’s always tired these days. 

“Magnus.” 

He feels his heart clench. “Isabelle,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “About everything. I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t have to.”

Magnus rubs at his temples. He feels his headache growing. The Seelie Queen, the Soul Sword, Alec, Raphael, even the particularly nasty client he dealt with this morning, it’s all building up, like soda shaken in a bottle. 

He wonders how long it will be before he explodes. 

“Then why are you calling?” he asks, trying to keep the hatred out of his voice. Shadowhunters, clients, friends and foes alike; they take and they take and they take and they take. They take from him like he owes it to them. 

Isabelle lets out a slow, long breath. “It’s about Alec.” 

Magnus’ fingers tighten around the phone until he feels his knuckles going white. Of course it's about Alec. Because Isabelle and him were never friends of their own. 

“Did he ask you to talk to me?” he snaps. “Because I told him to stop calling.” Maybe he sounds harsh. Maybe he doesn’t care. Heartbreak has always made him mean. 

“He has no idea that I’m calling you.” And now Magnus can hear the real reason for this late night phone call. It’s in the quietness of Isabelle’s voice, pitched low to prevent others from hearing it. 

“Do you want me to get back together with him? Because it’s not happening.” Magnus hates the fact that his heart still skips a beat at the mention of his ex, hates the fact that he’s lonely and his bed feels so much colder and bigger than it’s ever felt, hates the fact that it feels like there’s knives in the cavity of his chest where his heart should be.

“Well, yes.” Isabelle says. “But that’s not why I’m calling. I need you to come to the Institute.”

Magnus hesitates, for just a second, before he remembers that Shadowhunters are not like the Fair Folk; they can lie. Alec lied to him. Isabelle probably is. “I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t!” Isabelle practically shrieks into the phone. “Whatever you do don’t hang up, please, please, please don’t hang up. I’ll pay you anything, just come heal him.”

Magnus freezes, thumb halfway to the end call button. It feels like everything has gone hot and cold at once. “What do you mean, heal him?

“We were on patrol,” she says, and now Magnus can identify the shakiness in her voice. Fear. It’s not a good sound on her. “He got slashed, said it was just a scratch, that he was fine. But he’s not fine.” Her voice breaks on the word. "Please." 

Magnus feels something crack. "Ok," he says, before he even realizes he's saying it. "Ok. But this," he trails off, the static over the phone an indication enough of what he's going to say next. "This is it. I'm done." 

He realizes with some twisted sense of glee that this is the end. After this, there will be no more pain. Of course, the hurt will still be there. But Magnus has been hurting since the beginning of time, hasn't he? 

He can hear Isabelle’s exhale through the phone. “Ok,” she says, voice cracking. “If that’s what you want, of course.” 

Magnus hangs up before he can say anything else monumentally stupid, and resists the urge to chuck the phone across the room. 

____

He portals onto the front steps, and Isabelle is waiting for him. Her hair is pulled back in a bun, she’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that's a little too big for her, and her feet are bare. 

“Let’s go,” she says, and opens the door. 

Magnus steps past her into the familiar halls of the institute, ignoring the pang in his chest. “Where too?” he asks, fighting to keep his voice flat and interested. 

“Alec’s office.” She starts walking without checking to see if he’s following. Maybe it’s because she knows for Alec, he always will. No matter the circumstances between them. 

As they make their way through the halls, Magnus gets a few strange looks from the shadowhunters on duty. He holds his chin high, focuses on the back of Isabelle’s head. 

They reach Alec’s door, and Isabelle opens without knocking, pulling Magnus inside before closing it gently behind her. “Alec,” she says, and the man in question looks up from his desk and Magnus can’t suppress his gasp. 

Alec looks skeletal. The black sweater he’s wearing hangs off him, accented by the dark smudges under his eyes. His hair hangs limp and greasy in his face. Magnus can see the tremors in his hands from here as pushes himself off the desk into a standing position. 

“Iz,” he croaks out. “I told you, I have work I need to do.” 

Izzy pursers her lips, but Magnus can see the slight wobble. “I brought someone to heal you.”

Alec frowns, but it seems distant. Like it takes effort. “There’s nothing wrong.” His eyes shift from Isabelle to Magnus, and Magnus can feel his entire body tense in a fight or flight response. But Alec doesn’t really seem to see him. Those beautiful hazel eyes of his are glazed over with fever.

Magnus doesn’t know whether to be happy or worried about that. 

“Alec,” Isabelle says gently, like she's talking to a frightened animal instead of her older brother. “Magnus is here. He’s gonna heal you, ok?” She pulls Magnus further into the office. “Just sit down.”

Alec gives him a strange look, and then his face breaks out into the sweetest smile Magnus has ever seen from him. “You’re not really here,” he tells Magnus matter-of-factly. “I’m just hallucinating again.”

“Hallucinating?” Panic creeps into Isabelle’s voice, shaking her strong exterior. “Big brother, you need to let Magnus heal you.” 

Alec opens his mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled choking sound. He coughs wetly into his fist, head bowed and spine curved. When he straightens up, Magnus can see the blood on his hands, staining the pale skin scarlett. 

Magnus freezes. So does Isabelle. Alec sways on his feet, and before either of them can react his eyes roll back in his head and that impossibly long body of his is folding in on itself. His head catches the corner of his desk with a sickening crunch. 

Something rolls in Magnus’ stomach. Maybe it’s the Khao Soi because Magnus was lonely and felt like Thai. Maybe it’s the fact that the love of his life is unconscious on the floor of his own office. Maybe. 

Magnus is still rooted to the spot, but Isabelle is by his side in an instant. “Alec,” she says, fear laced through every word, and for a moment Magnus is reminded about how painfully young she is. “Alec?” 

She’s holding his head in her lap now, running her hand through his hair. Alec doesn’t even twitch, and Magnus watches in a mixture of horror and fascination as a trails of blood leak from the corners of his mouth, from his temple where he hit his head, from his nose. 

Isabelle is crying now, mascara running down her face, but her eyes are hard. “Heal him.”

Magnus doesn’t argue. In seconds he’s on his knees next to Isabelle, magic running through his fingertips. “Definitely poison,” he says, and Isabelle hums. “But a slow-acting one, which is probably why he never showed severe symptoms until now. I need to see the wound.”

Isabelle’s stele is out in a second, slicing through Alec’s shirt like the material was nothing more than flimsy paper. The “scratch”, which is most definitely not a scratch, runs from one side of his stomach to the other, and the bandages covering it are stained with blood and pus and something darker than both.

Isabelle lets out a furious breath. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“This might do it for you,” Magnus says without thinking. Isabelle reaches over and punches him in the arm so hard he feels it through his bones. “Sorry, sorry, I need to draw it out.” 

“What do you need me to do?” she says, all business. 

He looks at her. “If he wakes up, hold him down. This is going to hurt.”

She cards her fingers through the hair sticking to Alec’s forehead, wet with sweat, and nods. “I can do that.”

Magnus breathes deep, feels the air in his lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Heal. His hands are already glowing blue when he lays them on Alec’s wound. 

His magic rushes forward so fast his head spins, and he grits his teeth. The poison is a nasty one, and on top of that Alec has a broken rib that he must have  _ forgotten  _ to mention to Isabelle and a hairline fracture from when he cracked his head on the desk. 

Maybe half the wound has had the poison drawn out when the door is thrown open with a bang. “Alec!” Jace shouts as he slides around the corner, and then halts, drinking in the scene, a seraph blade in one hand and his cell phone in the other. 

His eyes narrow when he catches sight of Magnus over Alec. “Izzy,” he says in a low, tight voice. “Why is he here?” 

“I’m here,” Magnus snaps, “to heal him.”

Jace stalks forward, coming to a stop behind Izzy. Magnus can feel the anger radiating off of him in every tense line of his body, the tight slope of his shoulders, the white knuckled grip on the handle of his blade. “What happened, Iz? The pain I felt . . .” he trails off, and then comes back to himself. “Why did you call  _ him _ ?” 

“She called me because I’m the only one who can heal him.” He grits his teeth as the dark magic within the poison lashes out, fighting against the magic. “Now either make yourself useful, Herondale, or get out.” 

“Why do you care?” Jace snaps, kneeling next to Izzy. Magnus watches out of the corner of his eye as Jace gently takes one of Alec’s hands, gentleness so out of place with the anger. “You broke up with him.” 

“I had my reasons.” 

“You had your reasons to leave my brother heartbroken? I’m sure you did. I’d love to hear them, right after I beat you to a pulp and -”

Izzy reaches over and smacks him, cutting off his rant. “Enough, Jace. Magnus, keep going. You two can measure your dicks later when Alec  _ isn’t  _ dying.” 

Magnus gives her a toothy grin. “Of course, dear Isabelle. I’m almost done anyways.”    
  


His magic is flagging, but the blue around Alec is still bright and healing. He gives one last push, cleansing away the poison eating at Alec’s platelets, replenishing his blood supply, and then slumping sideways. 

Isabelle catches him without hesitation. “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear as Jace bodily throws Alec over his shoulder and carries him to the couch in the corner of the room. Jace’s hands brush over Alec’s hair, and Magnus can see him form the word “ _ idiot _ ” as he arranges Alec’s limp form. 

“He’ll wake up in a few hours,” Magnus croaks out. “He should take it easy for a few days, but he’ll be fine.” 

Isabelle hums, eyes locked on her brothers. Magnus can see the shadows in her dark eyes, and not for the first time he thinks she’s too young for this. He thinks they all are. He’s overcome with the urge to tell her that he’s sorry. 

What comes out of his mouth instead is, “I should go.”

She frowns, but doesn’t protest as Magnus stands up and brushes himself off. Jace doesn’t look up, and the last thing Magnus sees before he closes the door is the two of them over Alec. 

If Magnus lingers for just a moment, well - no one needs to know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me comments please i beg you


	6. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something cracks. Deep within his chest, at the sight of Alexander lying there, pale and beaten and bruised, tortured for crying peace against the sound of the war drums. His Alexander. Too stubborn to stop pushing, even at the risk of his own life. 
> 
> “Alexander,” Magnus says softly. “Alexander, look at me.”

Magnus is enjoying a marathon of America’s Next Top Model when a portal opens in his living room. 

  
  
Chairman Meow jumps up, back arched and hissing, but Magnus swats at him as his blue-skinned better half emerges.  She casts a critical eye over the darkened lights, the various takeout boxes, the frumpy pajamas he’s wearing and the fashion show on the TV. “Would it kill you to pick up the phone?” she asks, arms crossed and frowning. 

“Catarina, darling,” he waves an arm to the TV. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Somehow, her scowl deepens. “I work my ass off at the hospital, yes? You agree?” She barrels on before Magnus can respond. “You’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and yet,” she holds up a finger to shush him when he tries to talk, “ _ yet  _ I am the one getting contacted about a rogue Downworlder and Shadowhunter rebellion. Why is that, Magnus?”

“You got contacted about a  _ what _ ?” 

Catarina glares at him. “A rebellion, you idiot. Staged by Downworlders and Shadowhunters who weren’t too keen on the whole idea of living in peace. Do you know what they did, Magnus?”

“Catarina, I am so sorry,” he says, glancing guiltily towards where his phone sat facedown and silent on the coffee table. “Let me make it up to you.” 

“They decided to take the person responsible for the push for peace and teach him a lesson,” she snaps, and while before Magnus thought she was just annoyed he can clearly see the fire burning behind her eyes and the tenseness of her muscles. 

Contrary to Catarina’s fire, he feels like he’s just been doused in cold war. An icy fear, tingling, numb, spreading from his fingertips to his toes and dancing along his spine. “You mean -”

“I had to leave work earlier to go rescue Alexander Lightwood from the clutches of vampires, werewolves, Shadowhunters, and  _ warlocks, _ and then heal him so he wasn’t on the brink of death while his siblings burned the place to the ground.” Catarina’s hair is crackling with electricity, her rage turning into lightning so potent Magnus could taste the ozone. 

“Is he alive?” Magnus grabbed her hand. “Cat, please.” 

She shrugged him off. “No thanks to you!” she snapped, before turning and looking out the window at the city. The sun was making its descent behind the skyline, streaking red and orange the glittered across the glass of the skyscrapers. 

Silence. 

“I love you,” she says, finally. Her back was still turned, and in the glass’s reflection he could see her bowed head. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re hurting. But that’s not an excuse to neglect your duties.” 

Something within him swells, and there’s a lump in his throat. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

She turns around, and he can see the softness in her eyes hidden beneath the fire. “Do you want to see him?” Catarina asks, and then opens a portal because she knows Magnus better than anyone ever did, even Ragnor. 

“Cat,” he says, stopping in front of her. “Thank you.” 

She waves a hand at him. “Fix this, and then thank me.” Catarina gives him one last sad smile before pushing him through. 

He stumbles slightly as his feet hit the floor of the Institute’s Infirmary. The room is empty except for a bed in the far corner, two people keeping vigil over the still body. 

Isabelle gives him a nod as he hesitantly steps forward, her fingers sweeping gently through Alec’s hair as he unconsciously leans into her touch. Clary smiles encouragingly at him from the other side of the bed. 

“Biscuit,” he says, stopping besides her, laying a hand on her shoulder. He still can’t bring himself to look at the figure on the bed. “Isabelle, darling.”    


  
The Lightwood looks up at him, nothing but genuine warmth in her eyes. “I was wondering how long it would take you.” 

Clary snorts. “Wondering? You and Jace were  _ betting,  _ not wondering.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t bet either, Clary! You were the one who started the pool!”

“And I won!” She threw Magnus a grin. “I told you he’d come within the hour. You and Jace owe me a twenty each.”

“Fine,” Isabelle huffed, reaching down her skin tight dress to pull a 20 dollar bill from god-knows-where and handing it over with a scowl.    
  
Magnus gapes. “You were all . . .  _ betting _ on this?” His voice doesn’t go high. It _ doesn’t.  _ “Alec’s life was in danger and you were all making bets?”

Isabelle shrugs. “He’s not in any mortal danger like last time.” 

“Wait,” Clary says, eyebrows creasing. “What happened last time?”

“Oooh right, you weren’t there,” Isabelle waves a hand. “It’s not that important, I’ll tell you later.” 

“You better,” the redhead grouses, and Isabelle shoots her a grin as Clary's attention turns back to the oldest Lightwood. Magnus can see the soft admiration in her eyes, and before he has time to unpack  _ that,  _ Alec groans. 

The three of them freeze. Magnus with his hand still on Clary’s shoulder, Clary still looking at Alec, Isabelle still looking at Clary. 

“What’s going on?” Alec’s voice, rough and low, breaks the spell. “Izzy, what - what happened?”

“You asshole!” Isabelle punches him in the shoulder, ignoring his exclamation of pain, and then launches herself at him, enveloping him in a hug. “You absolute idiot, what the hell were you thinking? By the Angel, you could have died!” 

“I think what she means to say,” Clary breaks in, laughing, “Is that patrolling by yourself isn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t do it again.” 

Alec has the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Jace was busy,” he muttered, eyes on his hands. “Someone needed to cover the patrol, the demon activity in that area has been increasing and we’ve already had one mundane casualty.” 

Isabelle looks murderous. “You -” she raises her first to punch him again, and Magnus decides it's time to make his presence known. 

  
“Isabelle, darling,” he cuts in smoothly, trying to ignore the pain in his heart as Alec’s eyes snap up, surprise written into every line of his handsome, tired face. “Why don’t you  _ stop  _ assaulting your brother right after he’s woken up, hm?”

Isabelle looks between Magnus and Alec, and then slowly lowers her fist. “Sure,” she says slyly, trademark Lightwood smirk pulling at the bright red lips. “Clary, let’s go find Jace and tell him Alec’s awake.”    
  
Without waiting for an answer, Isabelle grabbed Clary’s hand, tugging her towards the door, both of them giggling. 

  
“Izzy, wait!” Alec called, but it was too late. With a wave thrown over her shoulder, Isabelle disappeared. 

“Ale-” 

“I’m sorry they called you,” Alec says. His eyes are focused on his lap, and Magnus can see a pink tinge of embarrassment creeping up the unusually pale skin. “They shouldn’t have. I’m fine, everything’s under control, and the next meeting isn’t going to be until tomorrow. Catarina knows more details, so you should ask her about it.”

Something cracks. Deep within his chest, at the sight of Alexander lying there, pale and beaten and bruised, tortured for crying peace against the sound of the war drums. His Alexander. Too stubborn to stop pushing, even at the risk of his own life. 

“You can go.” Alec still won’t look at him. “The Silent Brothers are more than capable, there’s no reason for you to be here.” 

  
“Alexander,” Magnus says softly. “Alexander, look at me.” 

Alec stills, then slowly, slowly lifts his head to meet Magnus’s gaze. His hazel eyes are dull, and one is sporting a spectacular black eye, swollen and bloodshot and dark. “I’m serious,” he rasps. “Go.” 

Magnus reaches out and gently cups his face, fingers splaying against his cheek. “Why would I do that?” He asks. 

Alec’s breath catches. “Magnus,” and that’s the first time he’s heard Alec say his name in so long, he’s forgotten how it sounds falling from his lips, “Magnus, what?”

“Isabelle didn’t call me,” he says, locking eyes with Alec, making sure that he can see the sincerity in every word. “I came on my own.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Alec whispers, hesitantly reaching his arm up like he’s going to touch Magnus. Magnus takes it in his other, guiding it so that Alec’s palm lays on the hand cupping his face. 

“Because I keep pretending that I can live without you. But I can’t, Alexander. And I was cruel, because I was hurt, but I can’t convince myself not to love you.” He can’t stop talking now, words pouring out of him. “I realized that I could have lost you today, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the things I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to tell you.”    
  


“I’m sorry,” Alec chokes, and Magnus has heard it through voicemails and text messages and even through the dark wood of his front door, but it carries a different weight in the infirmary bed. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I love you, Alexander. I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.” There are tears welling up in his own eyes now, and he lets them fall as Alec reaches out and pulls him closer. 

Their foreheads touch, and Magnus slides his hand from Alec’s cheek to cup the back of his neck as the arm that isn’t in a sling slips around his waist.    
  


“I love you,” Alec whispers. “I -”

“Stop talking,” Magnus says, and then he kisses him. Alec’s lips are as soft as he remembers, and he can’t help but grip Alec’s hair as Alec does  _ that  _ with his tongue. 

Alec breaks away, grinning at him, and Magnus huffs a laugh. 

Later, Isabelle will come back to find them curled on the same bed, Magnus cuddled into Alec’s shoulder and drooling slightly on his shirt, Alec snoring softly, their hands intertwined on the covers. 

And if she has pictures of it, well - no one needs to know that but her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me! this chapter took way longer than planned due to school and depression and sats, but i'm happy with how it ended and i hope you all are too. i plan on starting a short series of alternating malec oneshots that switch between fluff and *cough couch* smut. i can't believe how much positive feedback i've gotten from this fic, and i can't thank each and every one of you enough.


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